


A Poison Past His Lips

by AmateurScribes



Series: Whumptober 2019 [21]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Drink Spiking, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Prompt Fic, Whumptober 2019, discussions of rape, laced drink, no actual rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-28 02:20:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21129167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmateurScribes/pseuds/AmateurScribes
Summary: Simmons just wishes that both he and Grif could get over what had occurred between the two of them, with- with the temple.Maybe then he'd be beside his side at the club instead of sitting away from him at the bar.





	A Poison Past His Lips

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags for this one especially. Also, this one got a bit long on me unintentionally, sorry.
> 
> For the duration of this event, all mistakes are my own.

Tapping his fingers repeatedly against the bar countertop, Simmons looked over his shoulder at Grif who was sitting by himself at one of the lounge couches in the club they were in. And he sighed, looking away back at the beer that he held loftily in his hands.

"If I knew you were going to be spending the whole party looking at Grif instead of  _ actually _ going up to him, I would have hung out with Wash instead," Tucker informed him from where he sat beside him. He took a swig of his drink, also looking behind himself at the scowling orange soldier. "I don't even get what the issue between you two is."

"It's..." he searched to find an adequate word to describe the strain on his and Grif's relationship at the moment. "Complicated."

Everything had been great after they defeated Hargrove once and for all and worked on fixing Chorus it was like everything had finally come together.

But then the  _ temple _ happened.

And now Grif wouldn't look him in the eyes, and he always left the room embarrassed whenever Grif walked in or was already there.

It was like they had crossed this boundary that they didn't even realize they set for themselves and there was no going back from it.

No matter how desperately Simmons wished he could get over himself and just  _ approach _ the other man.

There were at this club for one last celebration before they moved to the remote moon that Kimball had secured for them, and he didn't want to leave things unresolved on this planet.

A brown-haired man sat down at the open seat next to Simmons and ordered a drink, while Simmons brought a hand up to run through his hair. The man- like everyone else in the club- had his helmet off but kept on the rest of his Fed armor.

"How can it be complicated," Tucker asked annoyingly perplexed. "You two  _ finally _ fucked after how many years?! You should be on his lap,  _ right now, _ making out, but you're not and somehow  _ I'm _ the one feeling blue-balled!"

"It just is, ok!" he snapped, glaring at the table in frustration. "I wish it wasn't but... I don't know."

Letting go of his beer to hide his face in his hands, he drowns out everything but his own guilt, only hearing half of, "... how am I supposed to know what his favorite type of drink is,  _ you're _ his best friend-slash-fuck buddy apparently."

"Huh?" he asked, lifting his head up.

"You just asked me what Grif's favorite drink is," Tucker rolled his eyes.

"No, I didn't," and his chest puffed out because it felt like a challenge on how seriously he takes their relationship. "He likes the same type of beer I do, the  _ same _ type of drink I'm having right now."

"Aw, cute," Tucker smiled at him mockingly.

"Whatever," he huffed. Glancing another look back at Grif he made eye contact with the man, and flushed at getting caught and so looked away. 

"Wow, this is just, really sad," Tucker told him, as the bartender passed a drink to the man next to him. But he watched as Tucker's eyes drift off in the distance, and a mean smile grew on his face. "But not as sad as that, look," he gestured with the hand that held his beer.

Turning to look in that direction, he saw as the black-haired man tried hitting Carolina up, who gave him such an unimpressed look that even  _ Simmons _ felt small, and it wasn't even directed at him.

Given the man's Fed armor, Simmons would think that he'd know that he had no chance with Carolina, and yet there was gesturing lightly with a smile on his face.

And Simmons didn't want to be rude, but the man wasn't a very attractive sight, and maybe it was the low lighting of the club, but he looked very ill and malnourished. And just a slightly bit crazed if his eye bags were an indication of anything.

He got a bad feeling from that man.

"Now there's a man who doesn't value his dick," the aqua soldier commented. "If he even tries anything she's gonna destroy it."

"Yeah..." he shuddered slightly, turning away just in time to see the man's face fall when Carolina must have finally told him to fuck off. 

"Listen, I'm just gonna give you some advice," Tucker said, moving away from the black-haired man. "Just talk to Grif man. Fix whatever it is that's going on with you two, cause, if there's anything I've learned it's that  _ apparently _ talking is the key to relationships. Which honestly-"

Whatever Tucker had been saying was getting drowned out as Simmons watched as the black-haired man meandered around the club, pausing abruptly when his gaze had landed on Grif's. Simmons stood straighter in his seat, watching as the man then changed targets and made a beeline towards him.

"- and that's when I realized that sometimes you just gotta take a chance, and that's the moral that I'm trying to get through to- hey! Are you even listening," Tucker asked indignantly.

"That guy who was flirting with Carolina is sitting down next to Grif," Simmons hissed, hands gripping the edge of the bar top tightly.

"What?" Tucker looked to see the other man doing exactly as Simmons claimed, sitting down on the lounge couch. "Oh come one, seriously? How does one go from making moves on an eleven to trying for a negative one- he should have a little more self-respect than that, he should have at least aimed for a five."

Glaring at the pair, he wished he could read lips as he watched the unknown man chat up the orange soldier. Grif didn't seem impressed, even go as far as crossing his arms as the other man made an  _ ass _ of himself. 

"Oh no- no you don't," Tucker reached out to grab his bicep, stopping him from going over there. "You do  _ not _ go and try to intervene on this, just because you're jealous."

"I'm- I'm not jealous!" he squawked. 

"Ok, Pinocchio, sure you aren't," Tucker rolled his eyes. "Trust me on this, if you go over there now, you'll just make an asshole of yourself and Grif might just end up going home with that guy in  _ spite _ of you." 

Growling, Simmons scowled, knowing that he just couldn't explain the bad feeling that he got from the man, Tucker just wouldn't understand.

So he'd just have to keep an eye on him. And make sure anything didn't happen, and not because he was jealous- because he wasn't.

"I'm leaving you to go talk to Wash, so you better not try anything, man," Tucker warned as he got off of the stool. "I will come over and drag you away, don't think I won't."

Simmons didn't respond, so focused on watching the pair as subtly as he could without bringing attention to himself.

At one point, the man came to the bar to order a drink, and after getting it he didn't go right away to Grif, hanging around the bar for a bit, and  _ then _ going back to the other man. 

So absorbed in his observing of the other man, he didn't even realize that the man beside him had left the bar not too long ago.

The only thing that had brought a smug smile onto his face was when Grif had outright refused the drink from him, and from his body language, Simmons had a feeling that he  _ too _ was telling the man to fuck off.

Two rejections in one night, damn.

Poor sap, Simmons would have pitied him if it wasn't for, well, everything about the man. He couldn't help someone from being unappealing.

Unlike with Carolina, the man openly scowled at Grif and left the attempt angry.

Simmons went to take a victory swig of his drink, and completely missed the passing over of the beer from the black-haired man to the brown-haired man from before. He only turned back to see the brown-haired man lean over the back of the lounge, whispering something into Grif's ear while offering him a drink.

Surprise blossomed over Grif's face, but he took the offered drink and looked over the back of the couch to catch a glimpse of the man, but he was already walking away.

At that time, the lights in the club which had been changing colors turned red at that moment and stayed that way for at least a minute. By the time that they had switched over to a frosty blue, the brown-haired man had disappeared into the crowd, and Grif had shrugged and started drinking the beer.

No one approached Grif after that, and while Simmons was relieved, this feeling was starting to pool in his gut, and he just didn't know what the problem was.

Until he turned back around to look at Grif after about fifteen minutes that he realizes why.

There's just something about his gaze- unfocused and glassy- and how his head kept dipping up and down like he was falling asleep but didn't want to.

A red flag was set off in Simmons' head, and he slid off the barstool heading over to Grif finally, and what he saw concerned him enough to pick up the pace.

"Grif?" he asked, hesitant to reach out to the man. He heard someone approach from behind, but when he whirled around he saw the retreating figure of a man with Fed armor.

Anger built up in him, but he turned back towards Grif, and brought his hands to his shoulder, shaking the man, saying, "Grif, are you ok?"

The orange armored soldier didn't respond verbally, and instead, he leaned into Simmons entirely, practically limp.

"Oh shit," Simmons cursed, panicking eternally. "Shit, shit _shit!"_

He doesn't know when it was done or how or by who, but it was one of those two assholes who had  _ drugged _ Grif.

And Simmons had  _ no idea _ what to do.

Grif's eyes were half-lidded, and Simmons was sure that he wasn't currently conscious even if he was awake- just barely though.

He didn't want to be seen carrying Grif out when he was like this, with what was currently going on between the two of them, people would- they'd that he-

But he couldn't just leave him alone to go looking for someone, who knew where those two were skulking around waiting for Simmons to leave his side.

Thankfully, he didn't need to figure out what to do, because Tucker had appeared at his side, chiding, "Dude, what was I telling you- oh shit!"

Tucker’s eyes were wide open, and his hands shot up to grab his head in shock.

"I- I don't know what to do, I just found him like this," Simmons explained, eyes darting around, paranoid now that people were watching.

"Ok, we're, oh shit- we're gonna bring him to our apartment and um-" Tucker floundered.

"Don't we have to take him to the hospital?" Simmons asked, slipping an arm over his shoulder to support Grif, whilst Tucker followed suit. "What if- what if it was an overdose?"

"Do we really need to chance this getting out  _ just _ before we're about to leave," Tucker looked guilty even as he said it. "We'll- we'll have Grey come in, but- fuck, man I don't know."

They started to make their way out of the club, waving off people's looks by making it seem as if Grif had just had one too many drinks, and Simmons felt beyond shitty doing that but everyone knew who they were, and rumors could spread pretty damn quickly.

Carolina did give them a questioning look, but Tucker waved her off, and Simmons didn't know whether they would tell the others about this.

But at the reminder of her, he whispered to Tucker, eyes darting to make sure that the man in question wasn't around, "That guy who was flirting with Carolina, I think he did this."

"Shit, really?" Tucker asked, and the brisk air of the Chorisian night hit their faces as they exited the club. "So that means he was going after her first? Aren't these assholes supposed to go after people who probably  _ couldn't _ kick their asses?"

"I wouldn't know," Simmons gritted out, mad at himself for letting this happen under his watch. "But he had help too, that guy who sat next to me, without a doubt."

"Well, I don't think we're ever gonna see them again," Tucker sighed. "This really sucks."

"Yeah," he murmured, eyes going towards the still out of it soldier in between the two. "It does."

They forewent getting a ride via car and just walked the entire way, even though Grif was practically a dead weight between the two. Tucker had let go of him to open the apartment door, and Simmons gently laid Grif out on the couch, but the action had made the other man flush and moan his eyes fluttering closed, thereby causing Simmons to snatch his hand away from the other man in guilt.

"I'm gonna make a call to Grey," Tucker informed him, leaving the room to do so.

And Simmons just stared at the other dazed man, feeling so goddamn guilt and he wasn't even the one who drugged him. Grif looked beyond sick, eyes still unfocused, sweating up a storm.

Simmons isn't surprised when his head tilts and his eyes roll up before his eyelids hid them from sight, knocked out like a light.

He doesn't want to imagine what those two fuckers were planning on doing with him while he was like this- or Carolina since the black-haired man went after her first.

"Grey's on her way," Tucker said when he got back into the room. "And Carolina called me saying that they were on their way back- what should we tell them?"

Wringing his hands nervously, Simmons tried swallowing with his dry as fuck mouth, inadvertently croaking out, "The truth? I guess- um-"

"Carolina's gonna be so pissed," Tucker exclaimed as he collapsed on the armchair. 

Simmons doesn't doubt that.

The two of them sit in silence, waiting for either Grey to show up or the other's, so when they finally hear a knock, it's Tucker- the more composed of the two- who answers the door and lets the doctor in.

"Oh dear," Grey proclaimed at seeing Grif. She went to his side, scanner at the ready, and as she went about scanning him, she turned to Simmons and asked, "Describe to me his symptoms."

"Um- drowsiness, sweating, uh, I don't want to presume about one thing, um, increased sensitivity?" he said awkwardly. "It- it set in, pretty quickly?"

Her scanner beeped, and she looked to see what it read, nodding her head, she informed them, "It was likely a GHB, and by increased 'sensitivity' I believe you're talking about sensuality?"

Feeling dirty, he swallowed and nodded, "Yeah."

"Well, thankfully, it was only a small dose," she informed them, clipping the scanner to her side. She reached out to feel Grif's forehead with the back of her palm. "It doesn't seem as though he's developed a fever. Just make sure to stay awake for him as long as possible, and before you retire turn him on his side on the off-chance that he vomits, we don't need him to choke to death that way."

"Got it," Simmons nodded, already planning on staying awake the entire night to make up for his error.

"Now, I don't want to presume, but do I need to conduct a rape examination?" she asked, gesturing to a case that she had brought with her. "I brought a rape kit just to be safe."

Shaking his head furiously, he explained, "No, no, I got to his side as soon as it started affecting him."

Nodding her head, Grey sighed, looking very tired, "Then, this is about all I can do. The drug will pass out of his system soon, and so long as there's someone watching him, then you don't need to worry about him passing in his sleep."

"Thanks for the help still, Doc," Tucker said, running a hand across his head. "We didn't know quite what to do."

"Next time, I'd recommend you actually bring a drugged friend to the hospital," Grey chided. "You're lucky I'm so fond of all of you that I'm willing to make a house call every once in a while."

"I- understood," Simmons said, not knowing what to say about anything.

Just then, the lock clicked and the doorknob turned, the others filtering into the apartment. On the sight, multiple of them expressed varying levels of shock.

"Well, I must get back to the hospital," Grey said, picking up the kit. "I will want to see him in the morning. Oh! And be on the lookout for seizures."

"Got it," Simmons said, not meeting anyone's eye.

"What's Grey doing here?" Carolina asked Tucker once the doctor had left.

"Carolina, there's-" Tucker started, but then stopped, lips pressed firmly together as he tried to word what to say next.

"Grif was drugged," Simmons decides to be the one to pull the band-aid right off. "That guy who was talking to you, I'm pretty sure it was him."

"What?" her eyes widened, and she glanced back at Wash who's eyebrows knit together in concern. "Jesus..."

"He offered both of us drinks, at two separate times, he approached me first," Wash explained upon the questioning glance from Simmons. "We thought he was just trying to gas us up since we were Freelancers, but-"

"I should've kicked his ass," Carolina hissed, fists clenching. "Still should."

"Well, we're never gonna find him or his associate again, so let's not focus on that right now, and let's just focus on making sure that Grif doesn't die on his own vomit or a seizure, ok?" Simmons snapped.

"Of course," Carolina says, calming herself down. But from the way her face pinches, Simmons can see that she's still stewing on the inside. And when she slams the door to her room closed, he can tell that something was going to get destroyed.

It's a very stressful night, of forcing himself to stay up and look out for Grif. The few times that his head dipped, and he felt the sweet grasp of sleep, he's reminded that Grif could still have a negative reaction to the drug and without Simmons there to help he could get further hurt.

And the morning is even more stressful, especially considering that Grif had woken up, nursing a monster of a headache, and sluggish but otherwise fine.

But he doesn't remember what happened the night prior. Doesn't even recall talking to someone with black hair, doesn't remember getting passed that drink.

And Simmons doesn't want to push the issue if Grif can't remember the incidence anyhow. They tell what had happened, of course, but while it does unnerve Grif of what  _ could _ have happened, he doesn't want to focus on it when they were about to finally get their well-deserved vacation.

But it bothers Simmons and continues to bother him months afterward, even if the images of the two men have become distant in his memories.

He's almost forgotten completely what the two men looked like until they're brought out of retirement and they're sitting down with these Blues and Reds taking off their helmets to share a tense meal as new allies.

And he looks straight at Gene-  _ brown-haired, _ voice doppelganger Gene- and then at Temple, sickly-looking from a lack of natural sunlight with  _ dark, black hair. _

He doesn't say anything, because Tucker hadn't reacted to Temple despite getting more than enough of a good look at him that day.

And they're thrown in jail not too long after that anyhow, but now he's right alongside Tucker for being furious at that  _ motherfucker. _

There's a reason why he didn't hesitate to pull that knife out on Gene.

He only regrets that Grif had stopped him before he could stab the fucker between the eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I very much want to stress the _attempted kidnapping_ tag here. This distinction is very important to me, so I'm just making my intentions clear.
> 
> If you'd like to contact me, you can find me at either of my Tumblr's: @agent-murica (main) and @amateurscribes (writing).


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